Chapter Six

Disclaimer: JKR owns it. I play in it for fun.

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Hermione appeared, inconveniently, in a spot of the Burrow's lawn where the sunlight had seen fit to attach itself. She averted her eyes from the strong glare and walked briskly towards the Burrow. It looked none too worse for the wear, all the years and six sons considered. Hermione smiled. It looked no different than it had last week.

The War had reminded people how important and precious family and friends were. With its end, Molly had declared that Sunday brunch was now open to any and all Weasley family and assorted friends who wished to attend. Minerva came on occasion, Lupin and Tonks were frequent visitors, and any number of children and significant others could be found gallivanting through the many levels of the house. Infrequently, Luna, Neville, or even old Quidditch pals like Oliver and Katie Wood (nee Bell) would come in for a spell.

Hermione and Harry never missed a brunch.

Just as she was about to climb the porch steps, the tall, green-eyed man in question burst through the front door. Hermione, startled from her deep contemplation, slightly jumped. "Good God, Harry, you can't just do that to a person!"

He chuckled, embracing her. "Of course, I forgot," he replied mischievously. He held out his arm to her chivalrously. She took it and smiled at him warmly.

"Shall we walk in? Where is your lady today?" she asked, looking around.

"Ginny is currently occupied at Madam Malkin's."

"In Diagon Alley?"

"That's the general idea, yes."

"Well, she runs the Paris branch; and with the two of you living on the Seine, one can never be too sure."

"Ahh, well, Madam requested that Ginny assist her today. Apparently, the Lady Scrimgeour requested Gin's presence," Harry said, looking proud of his fiancée. Hermione chuckled, releasing Harry's arm.

"Nothing against Madam, but Ginny could easily put her out of business."

"I guess that's why she's being groomed to take over."

"Well, she's fantastic with fashion. And hexes," she added as an afterthought.

Harry sighed, running a hand through the thick black locks. "Ginny and I are both bloody tired of doing the Ministry's bidding ... not that I ever really did," he said.

"I distinctly remember you giving the old one-two to Minister Scrimgeour during our sixth year. Repeatedly." Hermione smiled. The friends shared a good-hearted laugh over one of the few entertaining memories of that school year.

"Hermione? Is that you?" called the unmistakable voice of Molly Weasley from the interior of the house.

"Yes, we'll be in momentarily!" Hermione called back. She sighed, looking at Harry. "Shall we go in?" she suggested, starting to walk.

"Not just yet," he caught her arm. "What I came out here was to tell you, no, to warn you, that Ron's latest flame is dining with us today."

Hermione snorted. "Harry – Ron's flames typically do clock in one or two of Molly's brunches before being fired."

"No, not this one. She helped Molly cook the meal."

"Since when does Molly let people help her cook?!"

"Exactly."

"It's that serious?"

"I think so."

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Hermione crossed her arms, shock written all over her face.

"Yes, so no jokes about Ron's commitment problems that you so dearly love to drop in conversation, eh?"

"You know me better than that," Hermione smirked.

"Do I?" Harry smiled. He paused for a second. "And not that's it's likely to happen, but no mention of Death Eaters, or the War..."

"Harry," she interrupted sharply, digging her sandal's heel into the porch, "In addition to the fact that doing so is highly impolite and extremely uncouth, I would never do that in front of Molly and Arthur. Charlie ..."

"I know," Harry butt in. "What I am trying to say is – your research."

"Harry – that is my work! It's what I do! I thought we were all to the point where we could separate my research from directly addressing painful war memories," Hermione scoffed, indignant and somewhat hurt.

"We can. She hasn't been around it."

Now she was annoyed. Sensitivity to outsiders was not one of her strong points. "Ron's date, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Harry, it is my work, and Molly and Arthur are bound to ask about my progress ..."

"It's Daphne Greengrass."

Hermione was silent.

"Daphne, remember? Slytherin, pureblood, our year ..."

"I know, she took the OWLs at the same time as I did."

"You would remember details like that. Do you remember what's happened to her since Hogwarts?"

Hermione sighed. "There was a report about it in the Daily Prophet. Her parents were killed by Voldemort just after seventh year, weren't they? Something about blood traitors ..." she trailed off.

"Yes," Harry looked at her pointedly. "So today – look, none of us are rude, but today the war is an especially sensitive topic."

"Harry and Hermione!" Molly's voice shrieked, causing the twenty-one year olds to flinch. "Would you two get in here before the food starts to freeze itself?"

They smirked at each other. "We're coming!" they replied in tandem. Hermione took Harry's arm and walked over the threshold.

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As usual, Hermione heard the brunch attendees before she saw them.

"Pass the salt, George," Arthur's congenial voice boomed.

"I asked first," Fred said cheekily.

"I need the pepper!" Ron's voice chimed in.

"Here you go, darling," a feminine tone rang.

Hermione stared at Harry, raising an eyebrow. "You've got to be kidding me," she whispered, half-annoyed, half-amused, as she pushed on the wooden kitchen door. Ron's girlfriend even sounded blonde.

The door swung wide open.

She was.

Hermione and Harry walked in to varied greetings – "Hello children," from Arthur, "There's the other two," from Ron.

"You're late, you chit," Fred teased Hermione as she sat down next to Arthur. Hermione, Harry, and Fred sat in a row on Arthur's left side, Daphne, Ron, and George at his right, with Molly at the head of the table.

"That is such a beautiful dress, Hermione," the girl seated across from her said. Hermione looked up, taking in her first real impression of Ron's "serious" girlfriend. She was thin, and blonde – of course – with sparkling blue eyes to match. Her hair was pulled up in a simple high ponytail. She had a touch of glitter rubbed in her cheeks, but was dressed rather conservatively, in a classic white shirt with a pearl necklace and – Hermione assumed – an A-line skirt with heels. Her sweet countenance was startlingly reminiscent of the Weasley matriarch. Hermione imagined that if, in her Prewett days, Molly had been rail thin and blonde, this is what she would have looked like. Harry nudged her with an elbow, reminding her to respond.

"Oh, thank you, Daphne." Hermione smiled at her, self-consciously adjusting a strap on her shoulder.

Arthur ceremoniously dumped an omelette on Hermione's plate. "Daphne helped with the cooking, Hermione."

Hermione nodded to Daphne, acknowledging her work. "So I've heard. You must be an exceptional cook, if you've assisted Molly."

"Oh, it's nothing," Daphne replied modestly. "Ron told me that you are a delightful cook as well. I hope I can measure up," she said sweetly, taking Ron's hand. Hermione and Harry both bit back laughter.

Hermione caught the twinge in her throat. "But I've never been invited to assist the incomparable Molly Weasley – that is quite a feat, Daphne, and my hat's off to you for it!" She bit into her omelette, giving a small groan of satisfaction. "Oh, this is divine," she mumbled through chewing.

"Well, that's one of mine, thanks for the compliment, Hermione dear," Molly said brusquely, smiling. "How have you been lately, my dear girl?"

Hermione smiled. "Relatively well, thanks. Minerva stopped by to visit me just yesterday, in fact."

"Ahh," Arthur intoned. "How is that place suiting you? It's in the south, is it not?"

"Yes, near Brighton," Hermione replied. "It's beautiful – there's even a beach, if you'll recall from our visit there last year. It's not at all rocky, no cliffs, just a lovely little inlet of peace ... It reminds me of the Mediterranean, actually. Or, at least, how I'd picture the Mediterranean."

"You'd love it," Daphne offered, cutting up her sausage. "My brother and I share a beautiful home in Greece – it's just stunning."

Hermione's ears perked up. "That sounds divine!"

"We're considering holding the wedding there, actually," Ron said nonchalantly.

Forks and knives clattered onto plates. Hermione and Harry were completely dumbstruck – along with the rest of the Weasley clan, Hermione noted.

The first to react audibly was, of course, Molly.

"RON!!!" she shrieked, leaping out of her seat to draw her youngest son into an incredibly tight embrace. Arthur stood out of his seat while Ron dealt with his mother and embraced Daphne (who was indeed wearing a beige A-line skirt). "Welcome to the family, my dear. You've been good for that raucous son of ours." He winked at her. Daphne laughed.

"Thank you so much, Arthur. I know it's sudden, and actually we didn't plan on announcing it for a week or so ..." She glanced over her shoulder, a wry expression on her face as she saw her intended being practically molested by Fred and George.

Harry laughed, standing to shake Daphne's hand. "That's Ron for you. When he's excited about something, he just can't contain himself."

"I'll second that." Hermione stood, walking around the table to embrace Daphne. "I will certainly enjoy getting to know you. If Ron loves you this much ... you really must be incredible." She smiled at Daphne, whose eyes lit up at the compliment.

"Thank you, Hermione. Can I ..." she caught her breath as the twins' began to cheer and dance around the kitchen. The general laughter over the twins' antics soon turned to whoops and hollers as Fred and George grabbed Harry and began to sing rowdy bar tunes. Arthur and Ron roared with laughter, Hermione rolled her eyes, and even Daphne cracked a smile.

"Fred and George!" their mother shouted, abruptly ending the sing-a-long. "I will not have inappropriate ditties sung in my kitchen. Kindly take it ..."

"Outside?" Fred proposed cheekily.

"Sounds like a plan to me. Care to join us, Ron?" Harry asked, winking.

"Harry!" Molly exclaimed. "I am surprised at you."

"I'm not," George said, grabbing Ron by the sleeve. "We'll be outside in the gardens, Mum, making Ronniekins drink a shot of Firewhiskey for every time he and Daphne plan to..."

"George Alexander Weasley!" Molly screeched, flurrying across the kitchen. The young men flew out the door ahead of her faster than a Snitch, leaving extremely amused expressions on Arthur, Daphne, and Hermione's faces. Molly caught her breath at the doorway, hands on her hips.

"The minute those boys step foot in this kitchen, I'm going to ..."

"I'm sure you'll think of a worthy punishment, my dear," Arthur interrupted, winking at Daphne and Hermione. "But, in the meantime, we have family and friends to notify of Ron and Daphne's engagement."

"Oh!" Molly's eyes widened, looking at Daphne and Hermione. "I'd quite forgot about that!" she hurried over to a drawer, quickly pulling out a fancy quill and stationary. Sufficiently occupied, she sat down at the table with her husband and began to write.

Hermione and Daphne were still standing by the kitchen table, not having moved during the testosterone-fuelled ruckus. They looked at each other and smiled good-naturedly. She really is quite pretty, Hermione thought. Not Ron's type at all, from what I'd have thought, but a better fiancée he could not ask for ...

"Can I talk to you in private for a moment?"

Hermione blinked. "Of course, Daphne," she said, and followed Daphne into the living room.

The girls sat down together on the patched-up couch, facing each other. "What is it you wanted to talk to me about?" Hermione asked.

Daphne smiled pleasantly. Hermione liked this girl, she really did. She was very sweet – very genuine, in fact, frighteningly so for a Slytherin. She couldn't fathom how so congenial a girl could have run around with the likes of Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode for so long.

"Hermione ... you do realise how much to live up to you are?" Daphne asked with a slight giggle, exposing a shred of insecurity.

Hermione laughed. "If this is about Ron ..."

Daphne nodded. "It is ... And about his family ... And the Order. It's an entirely new social stratum for me. I'm, well, you know my background." She looked at the floor. "Slytherin, pure-blood, in the thick with families like the Malfoys and Parkinsons. Pansy and I were good friends in school, and I ran around with them – never one of the inner circle, but certainly privy to many of the plans ... And my father was never a Death Eater, but he was certainly valuable to that group because of his job." Daphne shuddered.

Hermione put a hand on Daphne's knee. "I know what happened to your parents. If you don't want to talk about this, you don't have to ..."

"I do." Daphne looked at her in earnest. "You've been one of Ron's closest friends for many years, and I come from a group that taunted and despised the two of you, and especially Harry ..." Her eyes were welling again.

"Here." Hermione silently summoned a handkerchief from one of Molly's many baskets lying around.

"Thank you." Daphne blew her nose. "I despised all of you in school as well. I won't be romantic and say that I adored Ron then – I didn't, and I made fun of his family in private just as much as my friends did ... The Weasley family was certainly a popular target with my Slytherin friends ..." She looked at Hermione sadly. "I thought they were my friends. Just after graduation ..." She choked up.

"It's alright," Hermione encouraged. Despite Daphne's obvious penchant for tears, Hermione was impressed with her, and her curious mind was, admittedly, desperate to know what had happened.

Daphne started. "My brother was a year ahead of us. He had taken a Potions apprenticeship with a Master in Brazil, so he was far away from the War and all it entailed. My mother, however, came to me after the end of school with grave news. My father worked in the Ministry, he was very high up, actually, and my mother said that Lucius Malfoy had approached him. He had always given the Death Eaters small pieces of information in the past, and he had helped to engineer the bargains that helped set convicted Death Eaters free after the First War, after we all thought that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was gone. Well, after seventh year, Lucius demanded that my father join the Death Eaters. This came just after the turning point ... after the giants had entered on Voldemort's side, after all the mass killings had begun. My father may not have been the most scrupulous of men, but he knew that siding so directly with You-Know-Who was as good as putting an axe over his family's necks. And he loved us, he did." Daphne's tears had begun to fall freely now. "He loved my mother with such a passion ..." She choked.

Hermione sat in supportive silence with a hand on her new friend's knee, waiting for her to continue.

Daphne took a deep breath. "He loved my mother." She closed her eyes. "And David, my brother, and I meant the world to him. While David was relatively safe in Brazil, I was here. My father knew what was demanded of Death Eater's families. Wives may be safe on occasion, but daughters who were of age were ..."

"Sold to insure support or given as reward," Hermione finished for her. She looked into Daphne's eyes sympathetically. She had never been this close to a woman's tale of the Dark Side, and the very thought of its raw and brutal nature completely unnerved her.

"Yes," Daphne said, with an air of helplessness that nearly broke Hermione's heart. "I was his baby girl." She looked away with a dreamy expression. "He loved us so much, he refused Lucius," she said quickly, looking down at her clasped hands. "And it cost him his life on the spot. Lucius left his body on our doorstep," she finished quietly.

"I had no idea, Daphne." Hermione took one of Daphne's hands in her own.

Daphne closed her eyes again. "My parents had always been aware of the possibility of this ... ultimatum. They'd arranged things." She looked at Hermione, composed once more. "David's and my inheritance, all the papers, everything of legal or sentimental value, was in our home in Greece, on the island of Evia. I obviously could not Apparate there." She laughed, Hermione joining her. Cross-continental Apparition was difficult even for the most talented of wizards. "Within the hour, my mother had called on a trusted friend, within the Death Eaters, admittedly, but whom my father had been good friends with. Even he, one of You-Know-Who's closest men, did not yet know of my father's death. He assured my mother that he'd make sure I was taken to Greece." Daphne was crying again, but she smiled through the tears. "He tried to convince my mother to leave with us, but she would not be parted from my father. So he took me into hiding. He quickly turned me over to Hestia Jones, who stayed with me in Greece for protection, and it was then that I suspected that the rumours were true ..."

"Hestia Jones?" Hermione asked, her heart beginning to beat faster. "She's a member of ..."

"Of the Order, yes," Daphne said. "So is he, though I did not know it at the time."

"Severus," Hermione barely whispered. "He ..." She shook her head, trying to regain her train of thought. "He saved your life?"

"Yes," Daphne said, her eyes awash with gratitude. "I will be forever indebted to him for it. He also ..." She wiped a tear.

"What else did he do? Snape is certainly one of the most capable Order members..."

"And one of the most valued, as I have come to learn. Molly and Arthur do love him so much, like one of their own," Daphne said. Hermione smiled inwardly – who did Molly and Arthur not adopt into their family?

Daphne sighed. "He quickly travelled to Brazil to tell my brother what had happened. Snape is also good friends with the Master my brother studied under. He was amazing. Would that he could have saved my mother ... but he tried," she said softly.

"They killed your mother?" Hermione asked in an equally gentle tone.

"Yes," Daphne nodded, relatively composed. "Bellatrix Lestrange."

Hermione's entire body tensed, and she herself closed her eyes. She could practically hear Liette's wail ...

Daphne intuitively took both of Hermione's hands in her own. "I know of what happened that night ... just before the War ended," she said quietly. "Ron told me. How it was you and he, and Ginny and Lupin who found the women that night. I am glad that Bellatrix was killed by a man wronged by her just as much as I was." She squeezed Hermione's hand. "I've heard of how much Sirius meant to all of you, Harry especially."

"Yes," Hermione said softly. "We all loved him, very much, and Harry was just ... No one should have someone so close to them ripped from their side so quickly."

"That's the truth," Daphne nodded. "Ron said that Lupin showed no mercy," she stared at Hermione, a hardened look on her face. "For that I am grateful."

Hermione straightened a little, impressed. Sweet and soft she may be, but there was an edge of steel in Daphne that would always rise in defence of herself and those she loved. Hermione gained a new respect for the girl.

She paused. "Harry told me not to talk about my work. He said that the War was a sensitive subject today, that you wouldn't be able to hear of it," she offered, brushing a hair aside. She smiled at Daphne. "You are made of a metal that will not easily bend ... Harry was wrong."

Daphne glowed. "Thank you, although I think that the War must take the credit for the metal of which you speak. It's hardened all of us, hasn't it?"

"That it has," Hermione sighed.

Daphne looked at her, an inquiring gleam in her countenance. "Ron has told me of your research, Hermione. I remember you being brilliant at school, but what he's told me is just incredible. Such a daunting task, really, and it sounds as if you are close to being finished. He told me that it was you who found Liette ..."

A tear glistened in Hermione's right eye. Wonderful, now I'm just as emotional as she is, she thought wryly, trying to push the memories away. "It was too late for Liette," she said sadly, "but I hope that with my research, our medical community can save thousands of more children. Children shouldn't have to see what we do." Hermione choked up. "Let alone experience it."

"Here, here," male voices chimed in from the doorway. Hermione and Daphne looked to see Ron and Harry standing in the doorway holding drinks (Firewhiskey, Hermione assumed). The two women quickly wiped away their tears, both quietly asking, "Is my mascara running?" and replying, "Not a bit, just there, there you've got it!"

Harry and Ron looked at each other, bewildered. "You have got to be joking," Ron said with feigned exasperation. "They just had a heart-to-heart about the war!"

"Hermione!" Harry looked at her accusingly.

"Don't worry, Harry, I brought it up," Daphne said. "We had a lot of history to cover, and I actually only had one more thing to say, that all of you can hear." She smiled. Hermione looked at her, curious.

Daphne gazed at Ron lovingly, then at Hermione. "Ron's family has become mine. They have accepted me in a way I never expected, nor could have imagined. I did not know that such love and warmth could exist for a person so deeply imbedded in grief. I have found a new life, a new love, a new family, and, I hope, a new friend." Her eyes locked with Hermione's, asking the question.

Hermione smiled back. "I think that in time, Daphne, we'll call each other something more then friends."

"That's where I come in, actually," Ron volunteered. They all howled with laughter, as Molly and Arthur looked in on them, knowingly, from the kitchen.

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A/N: Daphne Greengrass is a briefly mentioned character in the series. Information about her specific book appearances and role in JKR's notebooks can be found on Wikipedia.

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